You're the Music to My Heart
by alivingfantasy
Summary: "'Dance with me,' he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. 'I can't dance.' 'Yes, you can. You can do anything.' 'Even beat you at Scrabble' 'Anything but that.'" Oneshot. Spencer/Toby fluff.


**-you're the music to my heart-**

-:-

_No one compares_

_You stand alone_

_To every record I own_

_Music to my heart,_

_That's what you are_

_(Baby, baby)_

_A song that goes on and on…_

**-Selena Gomez, "Love You Like a Love Song"**

-:-

Toby Cavanaugh seriously doubted that there was anything in the world more beautiful than Spencer Hastings. As they sat on her couch, the setting sun creating dappled patterns of light and shadow across her face, the radio playing soft classical music in the background, he thought he was the luckiest guy there ever was. Her head rested against his shoulder, her lush dark waves spilling out around her, and he held her tightly, relishing the contentment of one of the rare moments that they could be together without worrying about anything or anyone but each other.

They hadn't said anything in a long time, he realized. Maybe it was because they understood how the other felt without words (because sometimes, when it came to love, words just weren't enough), or maybe it was because the comfortable silence made them feel relaxed and happy (but he was happy whenever she was within fifty feet of him, either way).

She methodically stroked his arm, up and down, up and down, in a sensually slow process over and over, and he melted into her gentle touch. How she managed to do that to him, he had no idea, not that he was complaining. He kissed the top of her brunette head, and she looked up, her glowing amber eyes peering into his lovestruck blue ones.

"What was that for?" she breathed, her fingers entwining with his on her lap.

He shrugged. "Because," he stated simply.

She gently stroked his knuckle with her thumb. "'Because' isn't an explanation, Cavanaugh," she replied wryly, a hint of her dimpled smile crossing her face.

He laughed softly. "My little perfectionist," he teased, trailing a finger through her hair. She smiled and cuddled a little closer to him. Her smile, he thought dazedly, could light up any room. He loved seeing her smile, because she was happy, but he loved making her smile, too, because it meant he'd _made_ her happy. And that was the most amazing feeling.

"You didn't answer the question," she murmured, pursing her full pink lips at him, her eyes sparkling temptingly.

He sighed deeply. The truth was, he just impulsively reacted around her. Spending time with her, the two of them alone together (she would smirk and dismiss what an oxymoron that was, and he would tell her how adorable she was when she waxed poetic about grammar), made him happier than anything else ever could. "I love you, you know that?"

Spencer's smile widened a little, and he felt his heart leap in his chest. "I love you too," she replied, kissing him softly on the lips. He kissed her back, tightening his hold on her. The kisses they shared emitted passion and contentment and depth and total, complete, and utter love. When they finally broke away for air, they were both breathless, their eyes locked on each other, never wanting to break contact.

She pulled away a little, absently toying with his fingers. He smoothed her hair back from her face, his fingers lingering at her temple, marveling at how perfect she was. What had he done to deserve a girl like her?

"Ugh," she muttered suddenly, delicately crossing her ankles. "I forgot I have a biology test tomorrow. I gotta go study," she added apologetically, glancing at him. He felt a wave of disappointment go through him.

"Okay," he replied, reluctantly releasing her, knowing how seriously she took these things. She kissed his forehead lightly, then slipped out of his lap, picking up the textbook lying abandoned on the coffee table. He watched her thumb through the book, armed with a highlighter, her hair partly hiding her profile. She looked so focused and studious that he had to chuckle, because it was so _Spencer._

"What's so funny?" she asked, peering up at him, a bemused expression on her face.

"Nothing." he stood up, plucking a battered copy of _Vanity Fair_ (the book, not the overrated magazine) and flipping through it, not meeting her searing gaze.

Spencer shot him a quizzical smile, taking the book from him, laying it back on the coffee table, and entwining their fingers. For a few moments, they just looked into each other's eyes. He could feel his breath go shaky, and he was overcome with the incredible desire—no, _need_—to kiss her. She beat him to it, though, pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back; she let out a sigh of contentment, and he pulled back a little, cupping her face in his hand.

"I love you."

"I love you more," she retorted.

"I doubt it. I love you more."

She rolled her amber eyes in annoyance. "No, I love _you _more."

"No, I do."

"No, I do."

"No, I do."

"No, I do."

"No, I do."

"Toby." she placed her hands on her tiny hips in an attempt to look intimidating, scowling at him. "I. Love. You. _More_."

He sighed in mock-exasperation. "Fine," he conceded. "Truce?"

She smiled slightly. "Truce."

He stepped forward, reaching up to kiss her forehead, trailing his fingers through her shiny mahogany locks. "I love you, Spence."

She closed her eyes. "I love you too, Toby."

It was times like these, Toby thought, that he wished he and Spencer had known about what they had before that night at the motel. He wished he hadn't judged her the way he had; that they'd fallen for each other under different circumstances.

But at least it was an interesting story to tell the grandkids. No, not interesting, he corrected himself, Epic, with a capital E. Because while there had been downs, there were oh-so many very perfect ups he wouldn't trade for anything. And whenever he saw her gorgeous smile or she kissed him or said something witty, he realized all over again that it was totally worth it.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, taking his hand in hers.

"What I'm always thinking about," he responded.

Her brows knit questioningly.

"You," he clarified, tracing the lines on her palm.

"What about me?"

He held her hands tightly in his. "About how important you are to me. And how I can't believe it took me as long as it did to realize that."

She gave him a wan smile. "Neither one of us said two words to each other before I showed up on your porch that day. All I did was accuse you..."

"And all I did was envy you," he finished, frowning.

"Well, we had more in common than I thought," she said, giving him a tentative look. "You were...different than the way I always thought you were."

"How so?"

She lifted her tiny shoulders in a delicate shrug. "I guess...well, you're...just..." she struggled to find the right words. Laughing a little, Toby tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You know, I've never seen Spencer Hastings at a loss for words."

She smiled slightly. "Must be an off day."

"You don't have off days."

He kissed her forehead. They were both silent, the only noise in the room the soft, gentle notes of the Bach playing on the radio. It gave Toby an idea.

"Dance with me," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. She looked up at him, confused, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "What?"

"Dance with me," he repeated, stroking her fingers.

"Toby." She sighed his name, her lilting voice sounding even more pronounced against the music.

"Please, Sweetheart?" he pleaded, looking imploringly at her.

She bit her lower lip. "I can't dance," she responded in an almost-whine, knowing it was useless. He was her weakness, and she _always _submitted, in the end.

"You can do anything. I know you can," he argued softly, because yes, she could. She was Spencer Hastings, and he loved her, and he knew, like he knew his own birthday, that she was capable of doing whatever she put her mind to. She'd proved it again and again; he knew.

She looked up at him, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Even beat you at Scrabble?"

He breathed a laugh, leaning forward to kiss her ivory cheek. "Anything but that," he murmured against her skin.

"Toby..."

_How in the world does anyone say no to that voice...or those eyes...or those lips...?_

She lost all resolve and guardedness around him.

She shook her head a little. "Alright," she sighed. "I'll dance with you. But I'm warning you, I'm terrible."

"I doubt it," he said, positioning her so that her hands were on his shoulders, his at either sides of her tiny waist.

Slowly, they began to sway back and forth to the soft music, Spencer's head slowly dropping forward onto his shoulder. He held her closer, leaning down to kiss her shoulder.

The way he made her feel, she thought, was incredible. Honestly, there were no real words—even to her SAT-level vocabulary—that could describe him. She loved him so much, every fiber of her very being screamed it whenever she was around him. A might want her to fall apart, but she was also falling deeper in love. And the thing was, she wasn't scared. He'd catch her; she trusted him with that. He knew her and understood her, but loved her nonetheless. He'd opened her up, showed her who she could really be.

As the final, lingering notes filled the air, Spencer looked up into Toby's sapphire blue eyes, their gazes locking the way they had that day on the porch, before everything had changed. Before they found each other, before he was her rock and her sanctuary, her happy place and her safe place to land. And she loved him, so, so very much.

"Toby..." her slightly husky voice cracked a little.

"Spencer," he murmured in response, brushing a stray piece of mahogany hair out of her eyes.

"I-" He didn't let her finish. He kissed her softly, gently. She kissed back, feeling her heart race. She wanted this to last forever and ever.

When they finally pulled back, she softly whispered, "I love you."

He smiled, holding her to him. "I love you, too. And I was right," he continued with a smug smile. "You _can _dance."

"I'd do anything for you." She kissed his cheek, and he stroked her hair, grinning with unabashed happiness and contentment.

They stayed there like that, for what simultaneously felt like two seconds and two years, until Toby reluctantly released her.

"I better get going," he said quietly, tenderly kissing her forehead. "Jenna...will be on the prowl. My parents are out of town, so there are no distractions."

She bit her lower lip to keep from begging him to stay, blinking back the unnecessary tears. "Okay," she said in a tiny voice.

Toby looked at her, concern filling his smoldering eyes. "Spence...Sweetheart, I'm sorry. If I could stay, I would; you know that. Please...it hurts me when you're upset."

She slowly lifted her eyes to look at him, smiling sadly. "I just wish things that were different. That we could just be together without worrying about anything...or anyone."

"So do I, Spencer," he sighed, running his fingers through her hair, distress filling is heart. "So do I."

She reluctantly moved away, and he tipped her chin up so she was looking him in the eye. "I love you. Never, ever forget that."

"As long as you never forget that I love you."

"Deal." he kissed her gently. "As long as you want me, I'll be here," he said seriously.

"So forever then?" she asked, gripping his hands in hers.

"Yes, Sweetheart. Forever." He kissed her lips one final time.

"Goodnight," he said softly, as she kissed his temple.

"Goodnight," she replied quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

She watched as he walked over to the gleaming truck parked at the curb and stepped in. He shot one final look at the house that held the girl he loved more than life itself within its walls.

"I love you," he whispered, knowing she couldn't hear. "So much."

Inside, Spencer watched the truck drive off, smiling faintly. He was everything she wanted, needed, loved. She never wanted this feeling to go away. Never wanted _him_ to go away.

Her phone beeped, and an immediate sense of panic washed over her. Panic that was instantly replaced by pure, unadulterated love when she saw the message.

_Missing you already. Never forget, forever is a pretty long time. But I'll be there for you every step, whether we're dancing or not, no matter what. I love you, Spence, and I always will. I promise you._

Her answer was short, but when he saw it, he smiled:

_I love you more. _

She was the music to his heart. Today, tomorrow, and forever.

_Fin._


End file.
